Pickles
by bloodredcherry
Summary: Betsy shrugged, and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm really in a pickle, Shauna." Betsy is certain she's not Jeremy's type. Chapter 3 is up! Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This story tumbled out of me after I re-watched The Mindy Project for the second time. I _love _this pairing, and I found out that Betsy is no longer going to be a regular on the show after I wrote this, and… I don't want to talk about it. I, like many of you, will have to live vicariously through fanfiction!

Anyway, this story is a one shot as of right now, but there's a possibility to continue it, I feel like the premise is a bit silly, but it was fun to write, so I'm willing to go with it. It could also take a more dramatic turn if that's what y'all are interested in. So please review or PM me and let me know if you want me to continue, heck let me know if I shouldn't continue! Thanks in advance, and I really hope you enjoy the story!

**Rating: **T for language

"Betsy, I can grab you a snack from the vending machine, if you're _that_ hungry."

Betsy started at Shauna's voice, she had zoned out, and when she glanced down she saw that she was holding a pen with a mangled cap in her hand. She flung it into the trash, and quickly wiped her hands on her plaid skirt.

"I'm fine," Betsy said in her best stern voice, although she supposed nearly knocking over her mug of tea probably ruined the effect.

"Jeez, Betsy," Shauna, steadied the cup, and pushed it out of Betsy's reach just for good measure. "You're making _me_ nervous."

Betsy sighed, and shot Shauna a look. Shauna was perched on her chair, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was wearing a short, tight silver skirt, and a top that Betsy thought suited a night club more than work, but Shauna did have on a cream cardigan – 'just to keep things classy'.

Betsy shrugged, and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm really in a pickle, Shauna."

Shauna stared at Betsy for a beat, and then nodded. "I totally understand what you mean," she replied, "that bow tie is a bold choice Betsy, but I'm just –"

Betsy's hand flew to her neck, and she fingered the yellow bowtie she had decided to wear at the last minute, before running four blocks to catch her bus.

"No Shauna, that's not what I mean." Betsy continued to fiddle with her bowtie, wondering if Shauna didn't have a point. Her cardigan was pretty busy as is, and perhaps the bowtie was a bit over the top. Betsy mentally shook her head, and was about to reply when she heard the elevator door close and a familiar voice declare, "good morning!"

Betsy let out a small sound, and quickly pulled herself in front of her computer, where she began to type frantically.

Shauna watched everything intently, glancing at Betsy – who was frantically typing, even though she didn't have a document open, and then she glanced at Dr. Reed who had just sauntered up to the reception desk.

A lot of people assumed that Shauna was all legs, and no brains, but they didn't give her enough credit. She felt her lips turn up in a smirk, and when she caught Dr. Reed's eye, she grinned.

"Oh, Dr. Reed, just the man we need."

Betsy made another sound that Shauna could only describe as a squeak and began to type more frantically.

"Really?" Jeremy's eyes lit up, and he leaned an elbow against the counter, he noticed that Betsy was focused intently on the wallpaper of her computer – which appeared to be a collage of cats trying to sit in incredibly small boxes – if he noticed that she was typing a non-existent document, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes," Shauna gestured at Betsy, "Betsy here was just telling me that she was in a pickle-"

"Shauna!" Betsy exclaimed, turning to face the other receptionist. "I told you that in _confidence_!"

Shauna made a face, "um, _no_, actually, you _didn't_-"

Betsy rolled her eyes, "the confidence was _implied_, Shauna!" She shoved her chair away from the desk and stood up, letting out a disgruntled sigh before storming off in the direction of the staff room.

Jeremy stared after Betsy and glanced at Shauna who only shrugged with a look that said, _don't look at me_.

Jeremy could count on one hand the times that he had seen Betsy lose her temper – well, he could count it on one finger, so he wasted no time following the young receptionist to the break room.

He poked his head inside the door, and saw Betsy, furiously dumping sugar into a mug of steaming tea. She was muttering to herself, and shaking her head. Jeremy took a moment to take in the young secretary before speaking.

She was wearing a pair of thigh high socks, complete with cat ears and whiskers that would have looked ridiculous if the person wearing them was anyone but Betsy. Her polka dot button down blouse was tucked into a grey plaid skirt, she wore a Kelly green cardigan with brightly coloured birds – her favourite if he remembered – and her outfit was completed with a garishly yellow bow tie, that should have looked absurd, if it wasn't so adorable.

"Betsy-" Jeremy began, and Betsy started, dumping a heaping pile of sugar into her tea.

"Dammit!" Betsy cursed and Jeremy started, shocked by the vehemence behind the word.

Betsy threw down the spoon, and glanced at Jeremy. "I bet you didn't think I could swear," she began, Jeremy shrugged helplessly and she continued, "Well I will have you know that I swear all of the time." She nodded, as if trying to convince herself, "yes. Dammit," she said again, "damn, dammit, shit and fu-"

"Betsy!" Jeremy reached her in two strides, interrupting her. "What on earth has gotten into you?" Jeremy didn't mention that he already knew Betsy could swear, from that one time that they had played checkers in the staff room, and she thought he was distracted.

Betsy stiffened under his touch, but only for a moment. "Nothing," she said quickly, she brought her mug up to take a drink, and grimaced before setting it down.

"Betsy," Jeremy repeated. "Are we friends?"

Betsy reached up and began fiddling with her bowtie, "I guess so, Dr. Reed."

"Well, friends talk to each other. They share what's happening in their lives."

"Oh gosh," Betsy murmured, and Jeremy gently rubbed her arm, encouraging her to go on. She froze, and Jeremy watched in fascination, as Betsy's face flushed red.

"I couldn't possibly tell you Dr. Reed," she finally replied, stepped away to break contact. "It is _too _mortifying."

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, "did that bloke that lives in your building steal your delicates from the washing machine again? Because if he did, you had better believe that I am going to have a word with him!"

"No!" Betsy exclaimed, taking hold of Jeremy's shoulders, "no, it's nothing like that." She squeezed tightly and didn't let go until Jeremy unclenched his hands.

"Well, what is it then?"

Betsy took a deep, steadying breath. "My cousin Brian is getting married."

Jeremy cocked his head, that wasn't at all what he was expecting, and the way this conversation was now going, he was wondering if he wanted to know.

Betsy was staring at Jeremy, and he realized that he must have missed something.

"I'm sorry Betsy, what did you say?"

"My cousin Brian is getting married."

Jeremy nodded, "I got that bit."

"I'm invited to the wedding."

Jeremy prided himself on being an intelligent man, someone who could problem solve the most complex problems, but with all of his skills he found that he had no idea what Betsy was talking about.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Betsy sighed, and looked at him as if he were a simpleton.

"I'm invited to the wedding, and so are you." Betsy waited for the light bulb to go on but Jeremy still looked baffled. _He looks adorable with his brow furrowed like that_, she thought distractedly. _No! _Betsy shook her head, now was not the time, especially considering what Betsy was going to say next.

"Grandma told everyone that you're my boyfriend."

Jeremy blinked, "that's all?" He replied, "I'm not sure I would classify that as _mortifying_ -"

Betsy gave a strangled sigh, let go of Jeremy and slumped into a chair. Jeremy heard a soft thump, as Betsy's forehead hit the table.

"Betsy," Jeremy knelt beside her, "please stop."

Betsy turned to look at Jeremy. "I didn't mean mortifying for _me_; I meant that it would be mortifying for _you_."

"…" He clamped his mouth shut, and Betsy turned her face away from him. He heard another couple of thumps before he managed to find his voice. "Betsy, I'm just… a bit speechless is all."

Betsy, turned to Jeremy again, and he could see a small red mark on her forehead. "Speechless?" She asked. Was that a good thing? Betsy couldn't remember, in all of the conversations she had had with Morgan and Shauna, she couldn't remember it coming up.

She noticed that Jeremy had settled onto his knees, and he had a look on his face that Betsy couldn't read. "Are you alright Dr. Reed?" She took a deep breath, "Jeremy?"

He glanced at her when she said his name, and Betsy could see that his brow was furrowed again, but this time it wasn't from confusion. He was upset.

"Gosh," Betsy sat up in her chair, "I'm sorry I brought it up." She rubbed a hand against her forehead. "I should have never said anything to Shauna…" She smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. "It's alright; I will just call my mom and tell her that Grandma obviously forgot to take her meds again-"

Jeremy's laugh caused her to glance at him, it wasn't his normal laugh – it was more of a huff of air. Finally he met her eyes.

"Why did you think I would be mortified, Betsy?"

Betsy swallowed, "you know." She said, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of her cardigan.

"No, Betsy, I don't know."

Betsy swallowed again, she wasn't used to Jeremy looking at her like that, so direct and serious. The last time he had looked like that was when he was talking about his childhood, but even then, there had been an air of lightness to the conversation.

Betsy averted her eyes for a moment before glancing back; Jeremy was still staring at her. _He's going to make me say it._ Betsy folded her hands, and focused her gaze on her hands. "Well, Jeremy, we both know that I'm not your type." She licked her lips, _there. That wasn't so hard was it?_ She let out a shaky breath, and continued to avoid Jeremy's eyes.

"My type?"

Betsy didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was stupid, so _stupid_ and she was stupid for bringing it up in the first place. She should have just called her mom, and told her that Jeremy had a conference about vaginas that weekend, and so he couldn't make it to the wedding.

Her mouth felt dry, and suddenly Betsy wished that she hadn't abandoned her cup of tea. She glanced quickly at Jeremy, and felt her heart constrict in her chest. There was a reason why she hadn't called her mom the second Gordon had texted her.

A part of her had hoped, that maybe, Dr. Reed – Jeremy, would want to go, and if Betsy was really honest (her mom, and her pastor were always talking about how important honesty was), that he would want to be her boyfriend.

Betsy _knew _how foolish that hope was. Sure she and Jeremy had been spending a lot more time together since Thanksgiving dinner, and they had plans to visit her parents for their infamous Super Bowl Party, but Betsy knew that didn't mean anything.

After all, she saw how Jeremy looked at Shauna when she was wearing an especially short skirt, and she had to bend over to change the toner in the printer. And he _still _used that smarmy voice when talking to the single mothers, so really, what else was a girl supposed to think?

Sure he had bought her a birthday present (a headband, and a cat pendent that she was wearing at this very moment) and he had invited her over to watch Larkrise to Candleford, but that was only because Betsy's neighbour was getting his place sprayed for bed bugs, and Jeremy didn't want her to inhale any of the fumes.

None of that meant anything.

Not a thing.

Betsy glanced at Jeremy again, and noticed that he was watching her.

"My type." He said again, and Betsy nodded. "What pray tell, is my type?"

Betsy made a face, and Jeremy felt his heart drop. He had a pretty good idea about what everyone thought his type was. Hell, he had made no effort to prove them wrong, in fact he had gone so far as to flaunt it, so why was this any different?

Why did his stomach feel like a rock?

Why had the words, _I meant that it would be mortifying for you_, and the subsequent look on Betsy's face make him feel like a scamp? His reputation wasn't a secret. He made no promises to the young woman before him, so why did he feel like he had cocked everything up?

"Well…" Betsy's voice startled him, and he knew that by the way that she was wringing her hands; she was trying to think of a polite way to answer his question.

He decided to beat her to it.

"Slags, Betsy, is that it?"

"What?" Betsy only looked confused for a moment, before realization crossed her face, "no, _no_." She was pursing her lips, and Jeremy found it entirely too endearing. She winced, "well… _maybe_…" she finally finished, she braced herself, preparing herself for – well she wasn't sure exactly what, but she prepared herself nonetheless.

What happened next completely threw her off.

Jeremy laughed.

Betsy looked at him sharply, he laughed – a real genuine laugh, and Betsy felt relieved but also completely bewildered.

"Thank you Betsy," Jeremy laughed, he pushed himself to his feet before dropping into a chair across from her.

"You're welcome Dr. Reed," she replied, "I think."

Jeremy laughed again, and Betsy found that she was smiling back. "It's important that we're honest with each other, Betsy."

Betsy couldn't help but laugh and Jeremy continued.

"Friends should always be honest with each other."

_Right_, Betsy thought, suddenly finding her hands fascinating again.

"I agree completely," Betsy's voice was shaking slightly, and this time Jeremy wanted to drop his own head against the table.

How had this morning gone so terribly awry? He didn't want to give the girl the wrong impression, but he knew - if he was really honest with himself, that it was perhaps, a little too late for that.

It was innocent enough, and besides, Betsy _was_ lovely, a little strange, and entirely too trusting but lovely nevertheless. She had invited him to celebrate Thanksgiving with her, and he had known without any doubt, that there _would_ be a Thanksgiving feast – it wasn't just an excuse to have drunken sex.

It was refreshing, and Betsy, in her ridiculous cardigan had looked so hopeful that he couldn't have refused even if he had wanted to. 

After all, he would be getting a free meal out of it; American Thanksgiving was one of Jeremy's favourite holidays, so it wouldn't be a total loss.

Jeremy had found himself pleasantly surprised by the entire experience. Betsy was a pleasant road trip companion, and although her family was admittedly a bit cliché, they were also welcoming and genuine.

Their love for Betsy was obvious, if not a bit smothering, and Jeremy found that he did not want to leave. Gene had shaken his hand, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, so hard that Jeremy nearly toppled over and Doris had pulled him into a hug, patted his shoulder, and nudged her husband.

That was when Betsy's father had extended the invitation to the Putch Super Bowl Party. Betsy had immediately piped up, claiming that Jeremy was far too busy and likely had his own party to attend, but Jeremy had silenced Betsy with a hand on her shoulder and accepted the invitation graciously.

He wasn't entirely certain when his relationship with Betsy changed, but he imagined it was likely around the night of the Christmas party. It had been solidified during the third episode of the second season of Larkrise.

"Look Dr. Reed, it's okay," Betsy had her hands braced against the table, but Jeremy interrupted her.

"I would love to attend your cousin Brian's wedding with you."

"Yes, of course I can think of an excuse…" Betsy's voice drifted off, and suddenly her eyes widened, "what? _Really_?"

"Of course Betsy, don't sound so surprised."

"But I _am_ surprised," Betsy replied, she quickly shook her head, and grinned. "Thank you so much, Dr. Reed –"

"Jeremy." Betsy paused, and Jeremy continued. "If I'm to be your boyfriend, you can't very well call me Dr. Reed."

Betsy's brow was furrowed now, and her head cocked to the side. Jeremy noticed that her cheeks were flushed pink, and he found that he was entirely too pleased. He slung an arm around her shoulder, and Betsy gave a squeak of surprise.

"Your Gran isn't getting any younger Betsy Bear; we wouldn't want to disappoint the dear old lady." He checked his watch, "oh, I've got to go; Mrs. Duncan is coming in at 9:30." He gave her a cheeky smile, and flashed his phone at her, "text me the details, and we can discuss this more over lunch."

The sound of an office door slamming brought Betsy out of her stupor, and she grit her teeth, and stomped her foot.

"I told you, _don't_ call me Betsy Bear!"

**End note**: Do let me know what you think, and if I should continue!


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note**: First, let me just say thank you so much for your follows, reviews & favourites. It means a lot to me, especially since I just threw this story up on a whim – not really expecting anyone to pay much attention to it.

In case any of you are curious, this story takes place in season one, after the Christmas episode and before the end of the season.

Anyway, please read it and let me know what you think! Thanks and cheers!

**Chapter Two**

Betsy was starting to have some serious doubts. She had to start painting her nails so she wouldn't keep biting them.

Maybe Dr. Reed wasn't being serious, she told herself, as she slipped a file into the file cabinet. She nodded; of course he wasn't being serious. _English people do have strange senses of humor_, Betsy reminded herself.

Just then Dr. Reed stepped out of his office, and when their eyes met, he winked and Betsy sunk into her chair.

She felt a blush prickle up the back of her neck, and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Gosh, she was in _so much trouble_.

She let out a huff, and dropped her elbows onto the desk.

_Why, oh why didn't you just tell mom that Gran was wrong?_ Betsy knew the answer to that, and sure, she would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about what it would be like to date Dr. Reed. But fantasy and reality were two different things, and there was no way that anyone would believe that Betsy and Jeremy were together.

"Hey Bets, are you okay?"

Betsy glanced up at Dr. Castellano and she nodded.

"Yes. Yep. I'm fine."

"Really? You're looking a bit pale."

"I just haven't been getting outside much," Betsy blurted. "I think I have a vitamin D deficiency, it's been snowing a lot lately, and the supply boxes seem a lot heavier lately." She knew she should just shut up, but she kept talking. "Muscle weakness is a sign of vitamin d deficiency, did you know that? Wait, of course you did, you're a doctor." She paused to take a breath and Dr. C cut right in.

"Well you can take a supplement-"

Betsy stood up, "You know, I didn't know that. Thanks a lot Dr. C, I'm going to go and talk to Dr. Reed about that right now!"

She hurried out from behind the desk.

"Betsy, where are you going? There's no one to man the desk!" Dr. C called after her.

"Shauna will be in at nine and there are no appointments until ten!" Betsy reached Dr. Reed's door, and knocked, and without waiting opened the door and stepped inside.

Jeremy gave a cry of surprise, and Betsy gave a small shriek, and turned to face the door.

"We have discussed knocking in this practice, Betsy!"

"I did knock!" Betsy retorted her face was buried in her hands.

"Well, it's customary to wait for a reply before barging in." Jeremy shot back, as he zipped his fly.

"I'm so sorry Dr. Reed."

Jeremy watched as Betsy continued to face the door, she was still covering her eyes with her hands and Jeremy couldn't help but to chuckle.

"It's alright Betsy, I'm decent."

Betsy gave an audible sigh of relief, but when she turned to Jeremy, she saw a flash of olive skin, and the expanse of his broad chest.

She quickly turned back to face the door.

"I'm not naked, Betsy. I do have trousers on."

"Yes, but your shirt Dr. Reed."

Betsy was so flustered, and her cheeks were so pink that Jeremy was tempted to remain shirtless for a while longer, just to get a further reaction.

"Alright Betsy," Jeremy finally acquiesced, "I assure you, I am fully clothed, you can turn around."

Betsy turned around slowly, and saw that Jeremy was tucking his button up shirt into his dress pants.

"I appreciate your concern for my modesty Betsy, but it's alright. Just be thankful that I didn't decide to go commando this morning."

Betsy glared at him, and Jeremy laughed again. "It's too easy Betsy. Honestly, you needn't be so bashful, especially if we're dating." Jeremy's voice dropped a few octaves and when Betsy looked up at him, he gave her a cheeky grin.

"Gosh," Betsy muttered. "About that, I really… I don't think this is a good idea."

"What do you mean?" Jeremy asked; as he bent down to tie his shoes.

"You know what I mean." Betsy replied, exasperated. He was going to make her spell it out for him. "Besides, even if we are dating, that doesn't necessarily mean that we've –" Betsy gestured between the two of them, and cleared her throat. "Been intimate."

Jeremy gave a huff of a laugh, "fair enough," he said sitting down. "That being said, I'm sure we've done some heavy necking at least."

"Oh, honestly," Betsy bit down on her bottom lip, and went to stand.

"Hold on," Jeremy held up a hand, but Betsy could still hear the laughter in his voice, so she ignored his plead.

_Bloody well done_, Jeremy thought, mentally shaking himself. "Betsy," she glanced up at the sound of his name. "I am sorry." He gave what he hoped was an affable smile. "That was unhelpful, to say the least, and I didn't mean to make fun of you."

The truth was that Jeremy occasionally forgot just how sensitive Betsy could be, and that she might think that he was making fun of her.

"It's alright Dr. Reed," she a small smile, "that's … well, exactly why I don't think this is a good idea."

"Because you're inexperienced?"

"No, not exactly," Betsy wrung her hands, "Truthfully, I'm just wondering how we're going to be able to pull this off." Betsy grimaced; it was coming out all wrong. "You're… well, you know what you are, and I'm, well, me –" her voice trailed off.

"What am I Betsy?" She was relieved to hear the teasing tone of Jeremy's voice. The last time they'd had a conversation like this, she'd basically called him a slut.

Jeremy cocked an eyebrow, and Betsy resisted the urge to stick out her tongue.

She took a deep breath, "you're charming, and successful, and handsome," her tongue nearly tripped over that last word, and Betsy was thankful that she didn't stumble over the words. "I…" she paused, "I'm quirky." That was the nice way of putting it, she knew many people would have called her odd, or even strange. She knew that she was a little bit outside of the box, but she she cared what Jeremy thought. She was quirky, and he… _wasn't_.

"Quirky?" Jeremy repeated, and Betsy nodded.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, normal is so dreadfully dull. Perhaps I like quirky."

She glanced up at him, her mouth rounded into a surprised "o".

Jeremy laughed out loud, "don't act so surprised. We're friends Betsy, I like you and I enjoy your company, surely you must know that."

Betsy nodded, and felt her lips quirk into a smile.

"Don't over think it," Jeremy continued.

"I'll try not to."

"That's my girl," Jeremy winked. "When are we heading out tomorrow?" He opened a bottle of water and took a swig.

"I figured I could pop by yours around four thirty."

Jeremy spluttered out a cough, and waved Betsy away when she moved to come around the desk. "I'm alright," he grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth. "Four thirty, in the morning?"

Betsy nodded, "the ceremony is at ten, and it's just outside of Auburn, so it will take about five hours to get there, but with the weather I wanted to give us some leeway, just in case."

Jeremy took another drink of water, swallowing carefully before continuing. "That won't do."

"Pardon?"

"Just come round mine tonight, and we can leave from my apartment in the morning."

"Y-yours?"

Jeremy furrowed his brow, "yes, mine Betsy. I live closer to the freeway, so we should be able to leave at five."

He made a very good point, and Betsy wasn't sure why she was so nervous. It wasn't as if she had never been to Jeremy's apartment before – she had been there a few times but always during the day, and never overnight.

_Come to think of it, when was the last time you spent the night at a guy's place_? A voice piped up in Betsy's head. It hadn't happened for ages, and although she knew staying at Jeremy's place was a completely innocent suggestion – it made sense after all – it still gave Betsy butterflies.

"Lovely," Jeremy said, "I'll see you tonight."

Betsy stood up, and nodded. "Do you need me to pick up take out?"

"You've read my mind, Betsy."

Betsy quickly left Jeremy's office and closed the door softly behind her. She heard Shauna arguing with Morgan, and the shrill sound of the telephone ringing, beckoned Betsy back to the front desk.

She glanced at her watch, it was 9:55am, and she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears. It was going to be a long day.

**End note**: I apologize for any inaccuracies about time & distance in regards to NYC & Auburn. I used Google maps, so if it's completely off, and you know of a better town/city that would work - please let me know!

Also, I know there's not a huge difference between 4:30 & 5:00 am, but when you're leaving that early a half an hour makes a huge difference!

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Authors Note:** I nearly forgot that Americans wear their shoes inside of their house (at least, I assume that's everywhere, but it could depend on the state) so please forgive me if my Canadian is showing. If I've made any glaring errors please let me know!

Also, I am assuming that Betsy doesn't own a car – but rents one instead, so bear with me!

Betsy struggled to shoulder her duffle bag, wincing as it caught her hair. Betsy had stopped by to pick up her rental car after work, her parents had offered to send her off with her father's old Corolla, but Betsy had refused – "_it's New York City, everyone takes the subway!_" Tonight wasn't the first time she had regretted the decision, but she knew it was for the best, because her building didn't have underground parking and she didn't want to take a chance leaving a car parked outside.

Jeremy had dropped a key fob onto her keyboard as she was packing up, and Betsy stuffed it into her purse, missing the look Shauna shot Morgan.

Betsy got a bit turned around on the way to Jeremy's apartment – it was different driving as opposed to taking the train, and picking up food on the way had caused further delay. Eventually she pulled up in front of Jeremy's apartment building. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth; the building was a modern high rise, the sort of building Betsy had always imagined living in before reality – and the cost of rent – set in.

She took a left, and rolled her window down to open the garage door – Jeremy had a parking space that was included in the rent, and Betsy was happy to use it, if only to pretend for a few minutes that she lived in a fancy apartment, with a heated garage and a doorman.

She caught her reflection in the mirror of the elevator; she was clutching a bright pink pillow, and a soft white blanket. She felt like she was attending a sleepover party with her church youth group and she sighed. The doors of the elevator dinged closed, and Betsy finally let her duffel bag drop onto the floor.

_Who are you trying to kid, Betsy Putch_? She sighed again and ran a hand through her hair. She slumped against the wall of the elevator, avoiding her eyes in the reflection, until the elevator slowed and the doors slid open.

She quickly shouldered her bag, jutting a hip against the elevator door – hoping they wouldn't close on her.

She almost lost her hold on the takeout bag, but made it into the hall without incident.

The hallway of Jeremy's floor was lined with lush carpet and the walls were coated with cream coloured wall paper – there was no graffiti, and no trash bags resting by the entrance to the stairs. Betsy took a deep breath, and didn't choke on the stale stench of smoke.

When she reached Jeremy's apartment, she shouldered the duffel bag, and pushed the door open. "Jeremy?"

"In the bedroom," Jeremy replied, "be out in a minute."

Betsy pulled the door closed behind her, and locked the deadbolt, more from habit than necessity.

Betsy left her duffel bag, pillow and blanket by the front door, and made her way into the kitchen. She deposited the take out bag on the counter, and opened the drawer under the island to grab plates and utensils.

"Is that Palace I smell?" Jeremy called.

"Curry," Betsy replied, "but Palace, yes."

"My favourite," Jeremy stepped into the kitchen, and Betsy opened the fridge to hide her pleased smile.

"Well, you're always talking about missing 'proper curry' so I thought I'd grab some on the way." She grabbed the jug of water, and closed the fridge.

"Maharaja's is completely out of the way, Copper is three blocks away –"

"Well, the last time I picked up vindaloo from Copper, your words – and I quote, were, "this is a travesty, this isn't a vindaloo, it's a shady imposter at best and I will have a word with the management –" Betsy shrugged. "I don't mind," _It's not as if I had anything better to do_. She wasn't going to tell Jeremy _that_, she didn't want to look desperate.

Besides, Betsy pushed her hair behind her ears, there's nothing wrong with doing something nice for your friends. Mindy liked her own coffee cake, and Jeremy's favourite Indian take out place was out of the way, especially when taking transit – but so what? Betsy knew a lot of people thought she was a push over, that she was just being taken advantage of, but the truth was, Betsy loved baking, and since moving to New York, she hadn't had much of an excuse to do so, there were no church bake sales, or fundraisers at Gordon's high school.

As for Maharaja Palace, it was only two blocks from the library, and a small coffee shop that had large couches, and outlets where Betsy could enjoy a large chocolate chai, for half the price that she would have paid at Starbucks. It was win-win, so Betsy was happy to do it, especially if it helped to brighten people's day.

"That's ace," Jeremy took the containers out of the paper bag, and began serving them both healthy portions.

"Spiffing?" Betsy shot back, "are you proper chuffed?" Betsy laughed, and took a foil bag of naan bread, as Jeremy rolled his eyes, but it was halfhearted and Betsy grinned.

"Yes I _do_ say, toodle pip, whot?"

Betsy loved when Jeremy laid his accent on thick; he did it for her benefit, and Betsy had often wondered if Jeremy was ever silly with the other girls he dated.

_Doubtful_, a voice spoke up in the back of her mind, _they're interactions are likely a bit more intimate_. Betsy stifled a sigh, and gave herself a mental shake.

"Thanks again for letting me stay over," Betsy busied herself with dumping a healthy portion of yogurt onto her Aloo Gobhi.

Jeremy watched as Betsy focused on her potatoes and cauliflower as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

"Think nothing of it," he said; knowing full well Betsy certainly thought it was something and if Jeremy was honest with himself, if the young woman was anyone other than Betsy Putch, he likely would have tried something by now.

However, he and Betsy were just friends, and even if he had of been tempted – Jeremy knew that he would have Shauna, and Dr. C to contend with and that was reason enough to keep any inappropriate thoughts of Betsy in check.

Jeremy reached out and stilled Betsy's hands, she looked up startled.

"It's not that spicy, Betsy."

Betsy stared at Jeremy for a moment before she glanced down at her plate, it was almost completely covered with yogurt and Betsy shrugged – "I'm from small town New York, it's not exactly the melting pot of America. Besides, you remember what happened that time we ordered the green curry."

"Indeed, I do."

It was the first time Betsy had picked up Indian take out, and she had made the rookie mistake of assuming that all curries were the same. When they finally dug in, Betsy had made a strangled sound and Jeremy could almost see the steam pouring out of her ears. Her first instinct had been to grab the bottle of water in front of her, and before Jeremy could stop her she took a huge gulp – which of course, only made it worse.

By the end Betsy had tears streaming down her face from the spice, and Jeremy had to hand feed her naan bread and milk until her face finally returned to its normal colour. They had both collapsed in laughter after that, and Jeremy had made a point to have a foil container with yellow curry with extra naan bread sitting beside him at the table in the staff room the next day.

Betsy couldn't wipe the giddy smile off of her face, and that was when Jeremy decided to be very careful, that was the day when he began to drop hints that although he was fond of Betsy, it was only platonic.

He wasn't trying to be cruel, which was why he never flaunted his conquests in front of her, but he still felt like a cad every time he saw her face drop – but to her credit, Betsy rarely made it awkward – and so they remained friends, and Jeremy was thankful for that.

They both made quick work of their meals, and when Betsy checked her watch, she was surprised to see that it was almost eleven. "We should probably go to bed," Betsy reached over to grab Jeremy's plate, and when her arm brushed his she paused and her brow furrowed, "well you know what I mean." She muttered, clattering the plates together in her haste.

"Let me clean up," Jeremy cut in, "you can use my bathroom, and the sheets are clean."

Betsy simply stared at Jeremy, "but…" she muttered.

"You didn't honestly think I'd make you sleep on the couch, Betsy?"

"Well…" Betsy fiddled with the wrist of her watch and Jeremy realized that's exactly what she had thought.

"Nonsense," Jeremy muttered.

"But," Betsy glanced at the couch, "I'm pretty sure you'd have to bend in half to sleep on here, and that won't be comfortable." Betsy took a deep breath, _why are you so nervous? You're both adults, people share a bed all of the time, it doesn't mean anything_. "We could always share."

Jeremy froze his cup in hand. He glanced at Betsy and saw she was trying to be casual.

_Don't over think it, don't over think it, don't_ – the corners of Betsy's mouth quirked up, and if Jeremy didn't know any better he would have said she smirked.

"Don't over think it."

_Easy bloody enough for her to say! _Jeremy dragged a t shirt over his head. _Don't over think it. The cheek…_" He paused, running a hand through his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall beside the closet.

"What's wrong with you?" He muttered to his reflection. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd ever had a woman in his bed, but Betsy wasn't just _a woman_, and Jeremy sighed. He couldn't just bed her, kiss her goodbye in the morning and move on – Betsy had become a part of his life. An odd, frustratingly naive part but a part nevertheless.

Jeremy would never be able to forgive himself if he did anything to ruin their friendship, which was why he was acting like such a tool (as Peter would say). Yes, _yes_ that was it. It certainly wasn't because he was nervous about sharing a bed with Betsy.

He could hear her humming in the bathroom, she had been in there for a while and Jeremy found himself hoping she felt as awkward as he was. He slumped onto the armchair beside the bed and rubbed a hand across his face.

It shouldn't be such a big deal – he should have been able to get into bed, pull up the covers and turn off the lights, but he didn't want to be rude and it wasn't as if Betsy knew his bedroom layout well enough that she wouldn't stumble around in the dark.

"Bloody hell!" Jeremy dropped his head into her hands, _so much for not over thinking it._ Had Jeremy known just how difficult it would be, not to over think things, he never would have said it to Betsy in the first place.

No wonder she was so wound up all of the time – bloody cruel, that.

Jeremy worked his bottom lip with his teeth and hoped that Betsy would be done in the bathroom, sooner rather than later.

Betsy wished she had thought to bring more than just a camisole and shorts to sleep in. A Victorian nightie would have been perfect, at least that way she wouldn't feel so naked.

Betsy let out a deep breath and craned her neck, trying to see her shorts from the back in the mirror. Had they always been this short? She was certain that they had been longer when she had purchased them.

"No one's going to see what I wear to bed," Betsy had told Mindy – in one of their few staff room heart to hearts.

"So what? You're going to see them, and that's what counts."

_Except someone _is _going to see them!_ She thought in mild panic. She should have just brought her plaid flannel pajamas and been done with it.

Betsy stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had relished giving Jeremy a bit of his own medicine earlier that night, but now she just felt foolish. She was certain he hadn't given their sleeping arrangements a second thought – heck, he was probably already sound asleep in bed.

_Get out there champ, and just _get it over with. Betsy secured her hair in a top knot, gave her shorts a quick tug and opened the bathroom door.

Jeremy sat up in his chair when he heard the fan go off, and when Betsy stepped into the bedroom, he felt like a twat for just sitting in the chair, waiting for her.

Betsy played with the loose hair at the nape of her neck, and wondered if it would be too weird to ask Jeremy if she could borrow a robe.

Jeremy watched as she fingered the loose strands, and it was then that he realized she was only wearing a tank top and shorts – and not the ratty pair you wear when you're at home with the flu – but the sort that were sold at a proper lingerie store.

The shorts were lime green, and were short enough to give Jeremy a view of Betsy's thighs that was far from proper. Her tank top (_why_ was it so delicate, and lacy?) was a shade lighter – and the straps didn't look a bit like _spaghetti_ and – Jeremy realized that he had never seen Betsy with her hair up.

It wasn't as if Betsy wandered around the practice with her hair covering her face like Cousin It, but he had never noticed how long her neck was, and her high cheekbones and his hand actually twitched with the desire to brush the loose hair back from her neck.

_Damn it_, Jeremy thought miserably. Why did he find a woman with her hair up so irresistible?

_Geez_, Betsy thought, tugging on her shorts. If she had of known Jeremy was going to look at her like this, she would have worn her parka and snow pants and called it at that.

"So sorry," Jeremy finally broke the silence. Was it her, or did his voice sound a bit strained? He gestured to the chair, "just sitting there like a twat. Did you find everything okay?"

Betsy blinked at him; she could swear that Jeremy was actually flustered! "Yep," she finally replied, "I found the toilet and the sink just fine."

It took Jeremy a moment to realize that Betsy was taking the piss. He met her eyes, and saw the twinkle there. _She's enjoying this entirely too much_! "I _am_ sorry. Shall we?" He gestured to the bed and Betsy gave him a look.

"Does that work with all of the ladies?"

Jeremy made a low sound in his throat and shot Betsy a look of his own. "Naughty."

Betsy giggled, and felt a bit hysterical. The entire situation was fascinating, because Betsy had never imagined Jeremy feeling nervous around anyone, with the except perhaps, being his father.

"Bit silly this," Jeremy said after a while.

"Yes," Betsy agreed. It was awkward, but Betsy felt something stir low in her belly. Just to know that just for a few seconds Jeremy actually _saw_ her, as an actual woman. She knows it's true, because she saw something in his eyes, but desire is a word that Betsy refuses to think about.

"Do you have a side?"

"No, do you?"

"I prefer the middle, generally."

"Hmmm," Jeremy mused, thankful that the tension that had been present moments ago had finally broken. "I bet you steal the covers as well."

Betsy shrugged, "I'm not sure, I haven't actually shared a bed with anyone in ages."

"Well I'm sorry to admit it, but I do snore – and terribly, so I hope you're a sound sleeper."

Betsy reached into the pocket of her shorts, and pulled out a small plastic case. "Earplugs. They're necessary where I live. Without them, I doubt I'd get any sleep at all." Betsy reached down and pulled the duvet back to find navy blue cotton sheets.

"What?" Jeremy wondered, before noticing what Betsy was staring at. "Expected satin did you?" Jeremy scoffed, "I'll admit, I'm a little offended."

Betsy giggled again as she climbed into bed. "Talk about impractical. Pretty difficult to get anything started when you're slipping off of the bed."

Jeremy laughed, "I imagine steam cleaning would be in order."

"Ugh," Betsy made a face, as she pulled the covers up to her neck. "Thanks for _that_ mental picture before I go to bed."

"You're so welcome, Miss Putch." Jeremy replied, cheekily, as he rolled onto his side to face her.

Betsy glanced over at him. "Thanks again, I really do appreciate it."

"You don't need to keep thanking me, Betsy."

Betsy nodded, and burrowed deeper under the covers. "This is nice." She yawned, "Much nicer than a single bed with a rock as a mattress."

Betsy was so happy not to be in her apartment. It wasn't that she minded living there – not exactly. She'd gotten used to the paper thin walls, the sounds of the streets, and she'd figured out how to carry all of her groceries up the stairs, without having to make two trips but it was lonely. She wasn't friendly with any of her neighbours, and going home day after day to an empty apartment was a bit depressing sometimes.

She filled it with plants, knitting projects and knickknacks that she found at flea markets but no matter how full she packed it, it still felt empty.

"Let's get a good sleep tonight," Jeremy said reaching over to turn off the light. "We can figure out our backstory on the drive tomorrow."

"Backstory?" Betsy hadn't even thought of that – creating a back story, but it made sense.

"Of course, we can't be a couple without a convincing story. I'm sure your mother would like to know how we met and Gene," Jeremy swallowed, "is likely going to want to know my … intentions."

"Intentions?" Betsy asked incredulously.

"Tomorrow," Jeremy mumbled into his pillow. "Goodnight, Betsy."

"Night, Jeremy."

**End Note**: So this chapter took a bit of a different turn than I was expecting but I just went with it! I want to show that the attraction is somewhat mutual (but not necessarily recognized on Jeremy's part). Anyway, do let me know what you think! I'd appreciate it so much!


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